Hi, my name is SEMIOTICS
"Lacan calls key signifiers points de capiton, or "upholstery buttons" as on a piece of furniture." These "serve to "seal" some kind of crucial meaning for participants in sign use."
Being in therapy, and being a writer, Lacan seems very apropos right now. I am wondering, in the narratives I carry, esp. in the ones I experience as needing tending (mending) what are my upholstery buttons? Which ones are poorly attached, dangling by a string as they do, or just wiggly loose, and how many were poorly placed in the first instance?
Which may be thousands of years back, the lifetime of just one tree.
Of course, when I ask that question here, of myself, it becomes, gratis, yours, if you'll take it.
In language, out of which we make our stories (and theirs), mastery is a weird thing. Given you drew up your "self" as a wee one, whose mastery exerts itself on your armchair?
What holds us as we are, even, modulates how we may be/come ?
Rhetoric. Let's throw it away. Exposing...
the void? (as if). If we REALLY throw it away. And I trust that tradition that says "dont worry,it/you comes back". But I meant lets throw THAT rheotric away. It was getting cheeky. Hands off my post, scurvy would-be adjunct theory profs!
Semiotics. I recommend it. A real easy ease-into is the INTRODUCING series, where those not-quite brilliantine quotes up top come from. All those pictures and short captions really help breach/broach.
I know some of our generation have found all things theory intrusive or limiting or just more dogma, but as I get a bit older, I find it can - at times - magnetize my perceiving. I thought about - experienced - words/consciousness differently today, thanks to old Jacques L. Punches a little hole in those narratives wrapped so tightly around the self.
To let y'all go with something that doesn't happen much around here, a haiku:
Wind.
The flattened pigeon wing
flaps.
or
Wind.
The flattend pigeon wing
flaps still.
(or "still flaps").
Or
In wind
the flattened pigeon wing
still flaps.
Does the "In"/"still" help - I imagine its assumed? It gives a little paly/tension around motion, but maybe drains somethign too? Whaddya think? Just dont tell me whether you LIKE the poem, for chrissake. It was just words that occured on a bikeride home that i will toss around until i'm good and done with it.
My most horrible secret writer self wants to call this poem "Democracy 2005". I think I am going to acquiese.
Unless I call it
"words that occured on a bikeride home that i will toss around until i'm good and done with it that i called..."
OOOOOOOOUUUUUUUTTTTTTTT
damned post! psot?
Being in therapy, and being a writer, Lacan seems very apropos right now. I am wondering, in the narratives I carry, esp. in the ones I experience as needing tending (mending) what are my upholstery buttons? Which ones are poorly attached, dangling by a string as they do, or just wiggly loose, and how many were poorly placed in the first instance?
Which may be thousands of years back, the lifetime of just one tree.
Of course, when I ask that question here, of myself, it becomes, gratis, yours, if you'll take it.
In language, out of which we make our stories (and theirs), mastery is a weird thing. Given you drew up your "self" as a wee one, whose mastery exerts itself on your armchair?
What holds us as we are, even, modulates how we may be/come ?
Rhetoric. Let's throw it away. Exposing...
the void? (as if). If we REALLY throw it away. And I trust that tradition that says "dont worry,it/you comes back". But I meant lets throw THAT rheotric away. It was getting cheeky. Hands off my post, scurvy would-be adjunct theory profs!
Semiotics. I recommend it. A real easy ease-into is the INTRODUCING series, where those not-quite brilliantine quotes up top come from. All those pictures and short captions really help breach/broach.
I know some of our generation have found all things theory intrusive or limiting or just more dogma, but as I get a bit older, I find it can - at times - magnetize my perceiving. I thought about - experienced - words/consciousness differently today, thanks to old Jacques L. Punches a little hole in those narratives wrapped so tightly around the self.
To let y'all go with something that doesn't happen much around here, a haiku:
Wind.
The flattened pigeon wing
flaps.
or
Wind.
The flattend pigeon wing
flaps still.
(or "still flaps").
Or
In wind
the flattened pigeon wing
still flaps.
Does the "In"/"still" help - I imagine its assumed? It gives a little paly/tension around motion, but maybe drains somethign too? Whaddya think? Just dont tell me whether you LIKE the poem, for chrissake. It was just words that occured on a bikeride home that i will toss around until i'm good and done with it.
My most horrible secret writer self wants to call this poem "Democracy 2005". I think I am going to acquiese.
Unless I call it
"words that occured on a bikeride home that i will toss around until i'm good and done with it that i called..."
OOOOOOOOUUUUUUUTTTTTTTT
damned post! psot?
posted by Kyle at 5:29 PM
1 Comments:
Over shadow
a pigeon’s
flattened wing
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